If It Doesn't Work Out
by herpaderpproductions
Summary: Dorian knows he needs an heir to stabilize his kingdom - and an heir means taking a queen. Although he wants Manon to take that role, the pressure from his court (and his mother) becomes too much, leading him to take drastic measures. Manon is overwhelmed with creating a kingdom from scratch, but can't take a break. Angst with a happy ending. Two-shot ( prologue)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** For some reason I felt that the second part of For Want of an Heir didn't have enough angst so here's some Dorian angst. I was thinking about what would happen if Manon didn't make herself known for a while and Dorian had to make a show of looking for someone else while secretly hoping that Manon would return. There will be a little humor and dirtiness in this, but otherwise it will be somewhat serious and less flufftastic in comparison to my usual fare.

There will be some Manon POV, but this will mainly be Havilliard-focused.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Throne of Glass

* * *

On the day of her coronation Manon stared at the hundreds of witches standing on the field in front of the ruins of their once great city. Although she knew she wouldn't see them she had hoped she would see her thirteen again. She had hoped to see someone. Her coronation wasn't publicized to any of the other kingdoms, but the court of Terrasen (or at least Elide, Lorcan, Aelin, and Rowan) and Ansel had managed to show up to support her. Dorian wasn't there – she made sure he didn't find out. She didn't need the comfort she found from him right now; she needed to show strength.

Manon stood as Glennis, Bronwen, and Petrah led her to the ruins of what would soon be her castle. They would need to get to work soon.

* * *

On the day of his coronation Dorian looked at the meager crowd of several dozen members of Adarlan's nobility – mainly women and children. While they had holed themselves in the mountains with his mother and brother, most of their husbands had remained in Rifthold – and consequently died in the sacking of the city. Only two estates still stood in any livable manner, and that was where many were staying. Now he was being crowned in a castle that he had left soaked in the blood of many servants and guards he had loved. Only Chaol and Yrene stood to support him. Dorian's mother and brother sat with the surviving noblemen, including Chaol's father.

He would've liked to have been crowned with his comrades in tow – Terrasen's court, Ansel, Nesryn, Sartaq, Rolf, and the many others he'd fought alongside. And Manon. He would've liked even more to have it be a public affair for the everyday citizens of Rifthold to enjoy. And yet, because of the urgency of the crowning and the limited resources to hold true crowning festivities, here he was, standing in a barren stone hall with a crown on his head.

Tomorrow he would need to hit the ground running.

* * *

**A/N:** This is the prologue. Be prepared for something of a timeskip in the next chapter, at least with Manon. This won't be too many chapters – maybe 3-5? I'm not sure yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So if the last chapter was the prologue, now we're getting to the set-up. This is the uber angsty part, and again will be much more Dorian than Manon.

Before you get all upset at some of the events in this chapter, I would like to emphasize that I think post-series Dorian is pretty Manon-sexual, or at the very least has lost all interest in casual sex and long-term relationships with humans (due to their fragility). Despite this, I also still don't see Dorian and Manon as a traditional ship as far as being eachothers' one true love or mate or whatever. I see them as a deeper level of fuckbuddies: BFFs who support and need support from the other and that enjoy having sex, but don't necessarily need a full-on romantic relationship dripping with affection or constant contact. Which is coincidentally as close to a romantic relationship with anyone as I think either of them will ever get post-KOA.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Throne of Glass

* * *

Nine months into her reign Manon had seen a lot of change. The ruined city was now rising from the rubble. Humans, Crochans, and Ironteeth alike had been working together to resurrect it. The square that Glennis said had once held a market was now home to several shops and stalls – it wasn't near full yet, but there was some basic trade. Houses and shops were built on both old and new foundations. Crops were growing strong on the farms – witch and human-run alike – across the wastes.

The castle was only barely beginning reconstruction: two towers were rebuilt with aeries for wyverns, and the central structure had been built up enough for her to have a room over her own along with a dining room and large throne/ballroom. There were still many areas even of the central palace to be reconstructed, but Manon wasn't pushing it. Her country needed the rebuilding effort more than she did.

While Manon had spent time doing bureaucratic things: making note of crops and resources her country could trade, beginning trade deals with Briarcliff, Terrasen, and Ellwye (contingent on her country's ability to produce resources), and delegating resources for the rebuilding effort. She was lucky Petrah and Glennis were knowledgeable, but she found her correspondence with Aelin to be by far the most helpful in her efforts to rebuild. She hadn't dared ask Dorian for help. She couldn't contact him during that time. Not when she needed to be a queen.

When she had time she would leave the rebuilding to Glennis and those of her generation – Glennis and her compatriots knew the capital's design and needs more than most and was therefore the best one to lead the reconstruction. Petrah was useful for translating that into a modern design and guiding the younger witches in Manon and Bronwen's stead. Instead of rebuilding, they would go hunting the remaining Ironteeth who escaped the battle.

Bronwen would scout out enclaves of them and contact Manon. In some cases Manon would let Bronwen and her allied group of Crochan and Ironteeth witches dispatch of the traitorous witches, but if a particularly old or well known witch was found – or if Manon was in a mood for violence – she would do the job herself. Nine months in and only 26 Ironteeth were left to find. Manon herself had killed 37. Bronwen's group killed 82. 36 had surrendered – mostly blackbeaks and bluebloods that were forced to recognize Manon's authority after their matrons had died.

Manon now sat in front of the map of Erilea with Glennis sitting at her side. Bronwen stood across the table. "Twenty-six left. Thirteen went south," Bronwen said. "They're our's."

Manon looked at her. "Fine."

"More importantly," Glennis said, looking at Bronwen. "You haven't done any negotiation with Adarlan, and the last thirteen witches abandoned their wyverns near Rifthold one week ago, presumably trying to catch a boat off the continent without looking too conspicuous. Someone needs to go there."

Manon looked at Glennis. "Are you saying I should go?"

"It might be beneficial on more level than one," Glennis said. "Trade negotiations with a country that controls major seaports and a chance to stop them from leaving the continent. Perhaps a chance to produce an heir as well."

"An heir?"

"Rhiannon was very fertile – she had several children of her own. You may be able to do the same," Glennis said.

"And the king of Adarlan may produce an heir that is advantageous in more than one way," Petrah told her.

"Fine," Manon said. "I'll go." For now, now that her kingdom was recovering, now that Petrah and Bronwen could lead in her stead for a time, she could stand to be weak for a few weeks. Despite her outward demeanor, Manon felt almost giddy to go to Rifthold. To live with no responsibility for a month would be wonderful - as would seeing her good friend.

* * *

Shortly after the coronation, the questions of an heir had already begun. The first month he had managed to stave them off by showing the work he'd been doing to rebuild his Kingdom: securing funding to repair Rifthold's port, making trade deals and treaties with Adarlan and the Southern Continent (which he had done in Orynth, but the nobles didn't need to know that), requesting talks with Ellwye, Fenharrow, and Briarcliff, and providing what funding and materials he could to rebuild the ruined city itself. That had been enough.

Two months in, though, the questions came again, and this time his hard work would not keep them at bay. The hardest work – starting the momentum of rebuilding – had been done, and now that he had enough time to sleep his mother had determined it was necessary to begin the search.

He'd tried to send a letter to the Wastes, both to create a trade deal and to propose a meeting with Manon, but he had not gotten a reply. Yrene had, but only from Petrah in Manon's stead. It seemed Manon was too busy with her own kingdom to leave.

So, to please his mother, he had to make a tough choice: he would have to choose a Queen that was not Manon. That didn't mean he wasn't about to do everything in his power to draw the process out as long as possible.

* * *

One day into the second month of his reign, Dorian announced he would be looking for a bride. To determine a suitable candidate, he would choose a handful of finalists from which he would pick that bride. After a year of evaluating their ability to be queen, Dorian would announce who he would marry on the anniversary of his coronation.

For if Manon hadn't shown up by then, he would need to make some farce out of producing an heir. It wasn't as if they even cared what he wanted, only what was best for Adarlan. Dorian didn't believe that was his offspring, he believed it was Yrene and Chaol's, but he didn't want to propose that officially – yet.

Dorian's search began at the Palace. Although he would be more eager to marry someone outside of the noble circles for both political and personal reasons, at least one of the candidates would need to be picked for the express political purpose of pleasing the existing nobility. So, he asked his mother to hold a tea party for him where he could meet the eligible ladies.

A few of the ladies were already off the table. Lady Kalyssa was guaranteed to cause a scandal if she hadn't already. Rosamund had managed to show up, but was apparently still married to whoever she had left him for (the rumors of those regrets were showing their face). Lady Adina was too innocent – he'd corrupt her with his attitudes. There were several women widowed by the war that Georgina had invited, but Dorian could not stand to marry any of them. Several weren't technically of age yet, and several weren't well educated or beneath him.

Although he wasn't looking for a lover, he did hope his queen would be something of his equal. Perhaps it had been all the women he'd fought with, but something about the women in the room left him unimpressed: few could ever hope to be the sort of queen he now thought of as worthy for the role. That candidate – the one he would likely choose in the end – would have to come from the people of Rifthold, not the nobility.

At the end of the meeting Dorian had announced his two candidates: Lady Deanna and Lady Rhea. The daughters of two of his mother's most powerful allies. One an old lover and one a carbon copy of his mother's personality. Women that would be politically good choices. The one he would choose as his wife barring Manon's arrival would be a much harder choice. For that he would have to go out into Rifthold.

* * *

Dorian would often walk the streets of his city in disguise. While people in Adarlan knew of his powers with ice – it was hard not to – they didn't know of his other talents. It was easy to ignore the young woman walking around, and easier to answer her questions than it would be if the King was asking. While for the most part this was a comfort measure of escaping the palace and a way to recruit talented people for his council and staff outside of the nobility, it had also served as a method to determine the candidates he would look into to be his bride. Now he had narrowed that down to one person.

Today Dorian walked into Rifthold's temporary library wearing his own face. The daughter of a carpenter who was a de facto political leader of working class Rifthold was his top choice, but she turned him down having been recently engaged to another man. That couldn't be avoided. His second choice had also turned him down, but on account of her disgust of his playboy days. He had researched each candidate carefully, hearing public opinions and following them around Rifthold to see their behavioral tendencies. The third choice didn't want the lifestyle of a queen. He came up with a list of three initial candidates, all of whom had turned him down.

Now he was steeling himself to get turned down again. She should have been his first choice, having come highly recommended by Aelin and Lysandra, but seeing as he would rather have her on his advisory panel he figured it would be best to avoiding alienating her by popping the question. Now he had no choice.

Ellyn Blackwood was someone Aelin had never met, and someone Lysandra had only heard stories of, and yet they were both fond of her. Apparently, she had a reputation for telling off old, stuffy political scholars and nobles with her new and innovative political ideas that emphasized the power of the working classes. All these new theories were based on her days of research in Rifthold's libraries, ignoring her job as a librarian.

He found her sitting on the floor in between stacks of books reading some history of Fenharrow in a language so old Dorian didn't recognize it. She wasn't particularly pretty or attractive, but her harsh features showed the determination and intelligence she had. Dorian hadn't bothered to research her, not thinking it would get to this point, but Aelin guessed she was several years older than either of them.

"Miss Blackwood," Dorian said as smoothly as he could. It was easy to flirt at one time, but in this case he had trouble. In any case that involved trying to seduce a woman who wasn't Manon, it was hard.

"I know what you're here to propose, King Havilliard," Ellyn said without looking up. "And I would be willing to say yes, given some contingencies."

Dorian stared at her, surprised how easy this had been. But – how easy would be dependent on her contingencies. "Contingencies?"

"I should have you know I am asexual," Ellyn replied. "I will help you try for an heir, but otherwise I would expect you to find another lover. I'm sure, given your reputation, that will be easy for you. But then you would have to put your reputation on the line."

Despite her expression – that suggested she thought this would be a deal-breaker for him – he was ecstatic. That would be an easy condition to meet unless Manon came back into the picture after the marriage. It also made him realize he had the upper hand, as his reputation as a prince still trumped his budding reputation as a king. "Anything else?"

"Access to all of the records and books hidden from the eyes of the public, those that are kept in Rifthold," Ellyn demanded. "And yearly trips to Orynth's library."

"Fine," Dorian said. "Although I have one condition for you to accept: you will be required to sit on my council as a political advisor, marriage or none."

"None?" Ellyn asked.

"I'll explain when and if the time becomes right," Dorian answered. "I'll send someone to bring you to the palace tomorrow so you can officially join the race."

"Against the two politically smarter choices?" She asked.

"Of course," Dorian said. "You're the best choice politically that isn't foreign royalty. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

* * *

The first three months of the 10-month-long slog (as Dorian thought of it) was relatively quiet. Each woman would have a heavily supervised "date" with Dorian each week along with classes about manners and courtly expectations. The next three involved more diplomatic meetings and planning, and luckily that brought Lysandra and Aedion. Not as lucky as Aelin herself, but lucky to come at a time when he needed some minimum standard of sanity.

Terrasen's representatives arrived late in the evening and snuck in, apparently eager to meet him without the pomp and circumstance – and the "potential" brides.

"So how many of these women are you actually considering?" Lysandra asked him over a glass of wine. She was stretched out on a couch in his study, looking positively sinful. Aedion was sitting casually in a nearby chair, trying to look nonplussed but unable to completely ignore her.

"None," Dorian told her.

"Good," Lysandra said. "I think Aelin would rip any of them to shreds."

"Even Ellyn?" Dorian asked. "I thought both of you liked her attitude."

"Aelin may not shred her, but she'd certainly be upset that you're not with a better match for you," Lysandra said. She sat up to look him in the eye.

"Aelin the romantic?" Dorian asked her.

Aedion snorted. "You'd be surprised."

"She simply wants you to be happy," Lysandra replied, batting her eyes. "And we all saw the awkward tension between you and Manon."

"There was no tension," Dorian said.

"Keep telling yourself that," Aedion laughed.

"I can still do a good job of providing her an heir," Dorian replied saucily.

"Good to see you're not counting her out," Lysandra said.

"What's your stake in this?" Dorian questioned her.

"While I could say I want you happy, and that is true, personally I am more concerned about Manon," Lysandra replied. "She needs someone that understands, as do you."

"I can't deny that," Dorian sighed.

"Then make an excuse to talk to her," Aedion suggested. "I'm sure you can find a good reason to meet with the queen of a neighboring country. 'Diplomatic relations,' both literally and figuratively."

"Or bring her here to honor her for saving you during the sacking of the city," Lysandra suggested. "To raise support for her reign and future ventures with the wastes."

"I can't," Dorian said. "Not yet."

"And why not?" Aedion asked.

"She proposed to me – during the war – to stop me from going to Morath," Dorian told her.

"And yet she still was willing to accept the comfort you offered," Lysandra replied. "Waiting will only lengthen the awkwardness of it."

"But I almost said yes," Dorian answered. "And I know I would do the same now, just as I know she doesn't want to be tied to me."

"You may be surprised," Lysandra purred eagerly. "As long as you let her do what she needs to, it may be a good way to boost both of your kingdoms. Ask Ellyn."

"No," Dorian replied.

"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer, especially after hearing what Yrene said about your relationship," Lysandra said. "How about 'we'll see?'"

A younger Dorian might have wanted to slap her, but here he didn't know how to reply.

"Just say it," Aedion replied.

"Fine," Dorian smiled deviously. "'We'll see.' As long as you, Aelin, and Yrene don't interfere. It has to be entirely Manon's choice, and I need to be sure of that."

Lysandra smiled one of those smiles that felled many a man in his father's court, and even some of the women. Dorian could see why.

"I'm excited to see what they think of you," Dorian said. "Aedion will likely get some bitterness and dislike and some praise."

"I'd assume more of the former," Aedion admitted.

"Though you," Dorian said. "That will be curious."

"Oh, you don't know how wonderful the facial expressions will be," Lysandra said. "I'm sure they've heard my new position, but until they see it they won't believe it – or register the impact."

"I _do_ hope you don't go around sharing the dirty secrets of the dead," Dorian said in a flirtatious – or as his friends knew it, a playful and joking – voice. "But the living, now that would stir things up enough."

"I was wondering if I should save those for you. To improve your stock of political blackmail material," Lysandra replied.

"Do you have any blackmail on any of the candidates?" Dorian asked her.

"Not Ellyn," Lysandra said. "Although it's well known she has no interest in sex, so there may be concerns about her bearing an heir."

"She said she would if required," Dorian said.

"She probably also wouldn't be the most queenly candidate, but that's not your concern," Lysandra said.

"No," Dorian said. "Rhea, she would be very good in the social aspects of being queen, but she wouldn't be a good match."

"And she wouldn't let you fuck Manon behind her back," Aedion snorted. Lysandra hit him on the arm. Dorian dropped the temperature in the room a few degrees, if only for the word choice.

"No, no she wouldn't," Dorian said. "But more importantly she's simply young and naïve. She didn't experience the war."

"The same could be said for Deanna," Lysandra said.

"Deanna. Oh, Deanna," Dorian sighed. "I chose her to please my mother. And to keep her mother from bothering me."

"She's a mess," Aedion said.

"How so?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"You don't know?" Lysandra asked.

"About her love for alcohol? Or her tendency to be caught naked in strange places? Or her generally poor reputation with the general public for being a spoiled brat?"

"Well, all of that," Lysandra said. "But she has quite the reputation among the courtesans as well."

"Really?" Dorian said, not entirely surprised. "I thought that would have been Lady Kalyssa."

"She has the reputation for it, but Deanna is the one to watch out for – she's simply more discreet."

"More discreet?"

"Of course," Lysandra said. "She uses courtesans when she needs a fix – not other members of the court above and beyond what her peers did."

"Does she continue to do this?"

"Well, based on the word of my old colleagues, it appears so," Lysandra said. "Would you like me to point you in their direction? Or perhaps Ellyn's? Courtesans usually know much more about the court gossip than you have time to."

"Perhaps," Dorian said. "Out of curiosity, have you met her?"

"Of course," Lysandra replied. "I've participated in several sessions with her."

"She'll do things I've never even heard of," Aedion said. "Usually in the context or orgies."

Dorian nodded. "Well, I'll have good reasons when I don't pick her. I would assume you have no gossip on Rhea?"

"Actually," Lysandra said. "She's known for being very naïve for her age. Even now I've heard she has ideas of purity that are much more strict than that of the other court women."

"She's been groomed to be your bride," Aedion said. "Apparently when Rosamund turned you down her mother was over the moon with excitement."

Dorian stayed quiet.

"But if you need a reason to reject her, you could always cite the need for someone with more knowledge about building a country," Aedion added. "Or the need to connect to the common people of Rifthold."

"Though Manon should still be your first choice whether she says yes or not," Lysandra said. "I do hope you can get yourself hooked into the network of courtesans for information. I think you'll be surprised."

"At what?"

"Well, the information they have on you is full of things you probably expect, but about members of your court. If you need to kick someone out they would be a fine resource," Lysandra said. "Perhaps Ellyn would be better to discuss with them, as she wouldn't gain a reputation for frequently meeting with other women."

"Even if men may get occasionally involved?" Aedion added.

"With how much gossip there is, she'd hardly need the men to participate," Lysandra replied.

"Well, perhaps later," Dorian said. "When you meet Ellyn tomorrow, you can discuss it with her."

"Are you already using her for political purposes?"

"Of course," Dorian answered. "She's truly the asset you said she was politically. She's already fighting the stubborn old men of the court for me."

Lysandra laughed. "As expected. I cannot wait to see her again, nor your other choices."

"Really?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, of course. I can't wait to see the looks on their faces when they realize who Terrasen's representatives are," Lysandra purred suggestively.

Aedion chortled, as did Dorian. It would certainly be an interesting visit.

* * *

An interesting visit it was, and one that kicked off much derision in the court. While Dorian was perfectly happy to have old friends and allies visit, the members of his father's court were less than pleased that Terrasen had sent a former courtesan (who had ruined many a marriage) and the so-called "Adarlan's whore" as their representatives. War heroes they may be, but respectable was a different matter.

Ellyn was happy with the information they provided – and the sources they connected her to. She was so happy, in fact, that she retreated to the library for three weeks to compile the information into her personal collection of political dirt, causing her to miss many an important function. Rhea and her mother had called for an immediate rebuke of Terrasen and a letter condemning their actions. To please them, Dorian wrote a highly sarcastic letter he knew the court would laugh at, but promised in a post-script to increase trade with the country. Deanna, while publicly agreeing with Rhea and their mothers, privately tried to proposition Lysandra and Aedion. When she was turned down, she raised more hell about their appointment.

Two months later it got worse when a rumor spread that Dorian had not been celibate since the war, but rather had requested Aedion and Lysandra come from Terrasen for relations. Many of his father's court bought into the rumor because Dorian had gone behind their back to begin allowing Terrasen's ships to pass through Adarlan's port.

That rumor was quickly devalued as Dorian's new court of scholars and workers from all across Adarlan began to form as a sort of large assembly for progress. Their word influenced happenings much more readily than anything the more idle, old money court of his parents did. But the rumor did have one lasting effect: Deanna sneaking into his room.

The first time he found Deanna naked in his bed he was perplexed about how exactly she had gotten past the guards. She reminded him that this was expected of him: to have his fiancée visit him some time into the courting process. He kicked her out anyways, wishing Manon would show up to flay her alive, and told the guards she was not permitted.

A week after the first incident he found Deanna in his rooms again. Two weeks later she was in there a third time. And only a day after that she made another attempt. By that point he had figured out how to make a barrier of magic in front of his room – it wasn't ideal as it meant getting workers in and out to clean and deliver food could be a hastle, but he didn't mind enough to change it. That meant that Deanna had to start spreading rumors that her attempts to seduce him had been successful, and then one month later (conveniently one month before Dorian would have to make his choice) complained about her mysteriously being nauseas every morning.

Rhea and her mother, in turn, began rumors not about Deanna's personal habits in the bedroom (perhaps it was seen as too low a blow), but rather about her lavish spending habits. Of course, they also fed the rumors about Ellyn's inability to bear an heir as well. Anything for Rhea's perceived destiny of being queen.

Dorian should have cared enough to squash the rumors in their tracks, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not when the anniversary of the end of the war was approaching quickly. Not when the memories began to haunt his dreams like clockwork again. Not when there was no one to talk to – not Hollin or his mother, who had not experienced the war; not Ellyn, who was entirely disinterested in anyone's emotions; not Chaol, who was too caught up in helping Yrene care for his newborn son to show up in the middle of the night.

And now, once again, Dorian wondered why he hadn't died in the war and left the Kingdom to Hollin. Now he had to rely on those rare moments with Chaol to keep him sane. He wished he could turn into a wyvern and fly off to some distant land, or why he couldn't just kill himself now, but he knew he couldn't. He had to live to honor those that had died for him. So he continued living as much as he could.

* * *

**A/N: **The next chapter will finally see the ship reuniting, and therefore less angst. Or maybe more.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I'm posting this whole story at once so I don't keep people waiting. This is the chapter I was most excited to write, as it washes off some of the angst of the previous chapters.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Throne of Glass

* * *

Manon hated this part of her plan, but she knew it had to happen. In the dead of night on the night of a new moon she had Abraxos drop her off on Dorian's balcony, then she sent him off to spend time with the wyverns at the Ferian Gap. She had already sent the witches there a letter telling them to send Abraxos back to her four weeks after her arrival – another new moon. If she hoped to catch the wayward witches she would need to make sure they were in no rush to leave, and seeing the Queen's wyvern would certainly make them leave as fast as possible.

She opened one of the glass doors to Dorian's chambers and slid through, more eager than ever to let go. She stripped her dirty travel clothing off and climbed into bed next to the restless man occupying it.

* * *

Dorian could see the blood on the cold floor and feel the collar being placed around his neck. He could hear his own screaming and taste the fear he'd felt. The scene played over and over in his dream that night until suddenly a change in sleeping position woke him up. He opened his eyes widely and looked towards the individual. Thinking it was Deanna, he didn't charge up his magic or reach for one of the nearby weapons for fear of killing one of his prospective brides.

His heart raced as the individual came into focus: it was Manon. A tired and travel-weary Manon, but Manon nonetheless. Suddenly he wondered if he was dreaming again, even if he had been having no pleasant dreams. So instead of questioning her inquisitive expression or greeting her he grabbed her and pressed her lips to his own. She didn't fight it – more evidence that this was a dream, so he kept kissing her fiercely.

He ran a hand down her stomach, feeling the scars he was so familiar with. The other hand dug into her hair, holding her face to his own. Her hands began to wander, her fingers tracing the ring around his neck in a strangely comforting move. She tugged at his clothing and managed to get everything off through the kissing and touching.

It wasn't until he slowly sank inside her that he really, truly opened his eyes and realized it wasn't a dream. Still seated inside her, he pulled her to him. As he wove one hand into her hair he began to cry – a mixture of pent up sadness and relief at her presence. "Hello, witchling," he croaked.

He felt a tear fall onto his chest and looked up to see that Manon was crying as well. Still, she tried to purr out a greeting of her own, "Hello, princeling." And suddenly everything felt okay.

* * *

The next morning Dorian brought Manon some breakfast. After they made love – he didn't dare tell Manon he considered it that yet, even if he did – he wanted to have a normal breakfast. No politics, no past, no asking why she'd come to Rifthold under the cover of darkness. Just food and each other's presence.

After breakfast Dorian went downstairs, leaving Manon to rest from what he presumed was a long trip. He prepared a bath and left out clothes for her. He left several books on the nightstand for her to read, not knowing anything else to amuse her.

Downstairs he was relieved to run into Chaol coming back from a run – one he'd forgotten he'd missed, as he had been doing lately now that Chaol was missing many himself. When his friend wasn't there, his depression wouldn't let him be motivated to run. Dorian pulled Chaol off into a closet, hoping for privacy. If he had time and the knowledge to draw wyrdmarks to prevent noise from leaking out he would have, but he hadn't made an effort to study them since the war. He hadn't had time.

"What's going on?" Chaol asked his friend, looking worried but sounding frustrated. "You don't usually drag me into closets, and certainly not since the war."

"She's here," Dorian said, a small hint of a smile creeping onto his face. "Manon's here."

"Manon? The witch queen?" Chaol asked. Although he'd been very unhappy with Dorian's choice of a girlfriend when he found out (witches were not to be trusted to not kill their lovers, and certainly not their queen), he had begrudgingly come to accept that they needed each other for some sort of emotional support. It helped that Yrene thought so as well. And now seeing Dorian crack something of a smile for the first time since the birth of Chaol's son, he had to remind himself that he had to let Dorian have Manon even if she could hurt him.

"Yes," He whispered. "Can you send Yrene up to her today?"

"Is she injured?" Chaol asked.

"No, not at all," Dorian replied. "I just think she'd enjoy seeing a friend."

"Yrene and not me?"

"You can come for dinner, but I know that you don't exactly like her," Dorian said.

"We'll come," Chaol said. "I'm sure Yrene will want to see Manon."

That was how Dorian found himself exiled to a small table in his room sitting across from Chaol. While Dorian smiled seeing Manon catch glances at Chaol and Yrene's child, Chaol was much less pleased to see when Yrene handed the sleeping baby to the witch after dinner. Manon had initially stared at the child before protectively holding it against her breast and sitting on the couch. Yrene had sat down next to Manon to continue chatting with her.

"Why are you here, Manon?" Yrene finally asked once they were away from Dorian. He tried not to eavesdrop, but it was too tempting.

"There is a question of heirs and trade," Manon replied, suddenly looking more intently at the baby she was holding. "But more importantly, there's reason to believe one last coven of witches are coming to Rifthold with hopes of escaping my reign and some day challenging me. I'm here to end that threat."

Dorian tried not to flinch at the first statement – both because it implied Manon wanted him to father his heirs and because he worried he wouldn't be able to.

"How long will you be here?" Yrene asked.

"Until they're dead," Manon replied. She didn't know if it was the truth.

"You should stay a little longer if you want to accomplish the other two goals," Yrene recommended. "Chaol and I are an unusual case – it may take some time to have an heir."

"That's not a priority," Manon replied.

"You'll at least need time to cool down and enjoy yourself, as does Dorian," Yrene told her. "Take a week here once you're done for some relaxation. There's a festival coming up in a few weeks. It would do you both well."

Manon looked away, knowing Yrene was right but not entirely ready to admit it.

"Anyways, what's your plan? You can't walk around Rifthold looking like that," Yrene said, indicating the leathers Manon was wearing.

"It doesn't matter," Manon replied. "Once I sniff them out it shouldn't take long."

"Yes, but you don't want to look like a witch in Rifthold right now, not after it was sacked. You can't wear witch leathers," Yrene stated. "I can go shopping with you tomorrow if you'd like."

"I have clothes for her," Dorian said, butting into their conversation.

"Women's clothes?" Manon asked, slightly amused. "That would fit? Do you go around Rifthold in my body?"

"I know it well enough to copy easily," Dorian replied.

Chaol held back a groan while Yrene laughed.

"Fine," Manon replied. "I'll take a look at them."

"I'll help you," Dorian flirted with Manon.

Yrene grabbed her child. "Perhaps we should go home soon so you two can put a little work into creating an heir. We wouldn't want to hold up one of the goals of Manon's journey."

Chaol was much less amused, but agreed to leave at his wife's suggestion.

When Chaol and Yrene left Dorian moved onto the couch next to Manon.

"About your goal," he began.

"I'll handle the witches myself," Manon said.

"I'll get you maps – all the maps of Rifthold, the port, the tunnels, the surrounding area – I'll bring them to you," Dorian replied.

"I can scent them out," Manon replied.

"You'll need maps," Dorian insisted. "But I wasn't talking about that goal. I was talking about heirs."

Manon blinked at him.

"I don't know if I'm ready," Dorian replied.

Manon felt a strange sense of something like relief flood through her.

"The other witches told me you wanted a witchling while we were on the road," Dorian said sadly. "So you can always look for a different father for your heir."

"Not now," Manon said. "But when our kingdoms have stabilized."

Dorian felt his own sense of relief.

Manon grinned at him. "But you're the only one to father my witchlings."

Dorian grinned back. "As Yrene said, it will probably take a long time, so would it be acceptable to keep trying?"

Manon didn't respond, she simply ripped his shirt off.

* * *

Dorian began scheming as soon as he had heard Manon's purpose for her visit. He could hide Manon and her goal while forwarding the matter of who would become the queen. The maps would be delivered, but not by Dorian himself. Meanwhile Manon was taking her first trip out to Rifthold with the help of Phillipa, some temporary brown hair dye (much to her displeasure), and Dorian's wardrobe. He had seen her off through a back door before the sun rose.

He hadn't checked his room to see if she'd come back, having been too busy during the day. But dinner was where he'd put his plans into place. Tonight all of the candidates would be at dinner – as would the mothers of Deanna and Rhea and the few surviving advisors to his parents' court. He had delivered a message to Ellyn, telling her she absolutely could not skip tonight's meal as she had a tendency to do.

When they sat at the large table Dorian sat stoically, holding back a dangerous grin Manon would be proud of. He stood to greet Ellyn, the last to arrive as usual. He placed one hand low on her hips and made a point of pressing a tender, lingering kiss to her lips. He felt the initial shock but as the kiss lasted and she felt him slip a note into her back pocket she played her part well. The note safe in her pocket, he pulled away from the kiss and moved his lips to her ear to whisper into it. Loud enough that Rhea, who sat next to where he stood, could hear he whispered into her ear.

"Will you attend to me in my room tonight?"

As he pulled back from her ear he could see another look of surprise and suspicion on her face, but that went away with another quick kiss to her lips.

"Of course," Ellyn replied before sitting in her spot next to Rhea.

Throughout dinner Ellyn gave him questioning looks, but she didn't openly question him.

"Dorian," his mother said, pulling him away from the table. "You seem happier tonight than I've seen you in months. Has Ellyn been seeing to your needs? I thought-"

"I had a wonderful dinner with Chaol, Yrene, and their son last night. I suppose the joy from that must have rolled over into today," Dorian told her. "And I know you still disapprove of Ellyn as a choice."

"Wonderful? Don't you have dinner with them every week?"

Dorian could tell his mother was suspicious, but that would be easy enough to fix – after all, she didn't know him nearly as well as she thought. "They shared good news with me, that an old friend from the war would be coming to visit to facilitate trade agreements with the Witch Kingdom."

That made Georgina blanche, but she sucked it up. "When?"

"Between one and three weeks," Dorian replied. "Although the plans still might change depending on conditions in their kingdom." That would give Manon a cop out in case she didn't want to spend a week relaxing after she'd finished her work.

"Then we must plan for-"

"No need to plan for the delegation's arrival," Dorian said. "I would like to keep it quiet until the dates and plans are more official. Right now it's only a possibility."

"Is this witch your lover?"

Dorian had to work hard to keep his poker face, but was able to keep himself composed. "There are male crochans, mother."

That shut his mother up, as she thought of the possibility her son was no longer interested in women – something that would explain why he wasn't interested in bringing anyone but a rumored asexual woman to his room since the war.

An hour later he waited on a couch with Manon. He debated whether or not he should introduce Manon to Ellyn so early, but Ellyn had so little human contact he doubted she could spill the secret even if she wanted – which she likely wouldn't.

A knock on his door indicated Ellyn had arrived. He opened the door for her. Before she came in she pushed a large cart full of maps through the doorway. Dorian was a bit disappointed to see how unconcerned she was with Manon's presence.

"Is this the 'foreign royalty' you thought would be your best candidate for marriage?" Ellyn asked, approaching Manon. "The witch your mother doesn't want visiting?"

"One and the same," Dorian said.

"Manon, meet Ellyn," Dorian waved at the woman. "Ellyn, meet Manon."

Manon looked at the woman. "One of the candidates to be your bride, I presume?"

"The only useful one," Dorian said. "A true political genius, if not a social one. She should be able to help us with any trade negotiations you'd like to work on during this visit, if she deigns to leave the library for more than an hour at a time."

Manon grinned. "We could do it in the library."

"She's here tonight to bring you the maps you need," Dorian replied.

"Of Rifthold?" Manon asked.

"Old, new, and most current," Dorian replied.

"Is that all I need to do tonight for you?" Ellyn asked.

"If I recall, the others do think we're having sex right now," Dorian replied. "So you'll need to stay here for at least an hour, maybe all night."

"An hour," Ellyn replied.

"They think?" Manon hissed.

"The other candidates to marry me," Dorian answered. "And my mother."

Ellyn snorted. "Smart."

"You'll need to explain, Princeling," Manon said.

"If they think there's a chance of an heir being produced between the two of us out of wedlock, that moves her to the top of the candidate list whether they like it or not," Dorian replied. "And helps to put them in their place as far as where they stand in this race."

"Third and fourth place," Ellyn elaborated. "In some order."

"I thought there were only three candidates." Manon looked to him.

"You are number one," Ellyn replied.

Manon didn't question Ellyn any further. Dorian did the honors of grabbing various maps off the cart as Ellyn identified each one. They worked together for hours to find the best maps, shoving them over to Manon for her review as they evaluated each one.

They worked into the night, with Ellyn only leaving around two in the morning. Dorian fell asleep soon after, but Manon still worked.

* * *

Manon had hardly seen Dorian for a week. She had been roaming the streets and tunnels of Rifthold searching down the missing witches. Tonight she'd found (and slaughtered) three, leaving the bodies in the street for the others to hopefully smell. It didn't feel good to kill her fellow witches when she was trying to rebuild her kingdom, but rebuilding her kingdom also meant offering no mercy to those that threatened it. Manon had offered surrender to them, but when it became clear that wasn't an option, killing them became the easy choice.

She trudged up the stairs to Dorian's tower covered in a cloak to hide the blue blood that soaked her leathers. Most was dried, but she was careful to avoid drops falling onto the floor. She quietly entered Dorian's room and was disturbed to smell a woman. Manon suspected that she knew who this woman was – the one Dorian had warned her about. The one that liked to show up in his bed naked.

It was difficult to decide what to do. Although she was still learning, she knew she couldn't up and kill a member of Dorian's court in his room without causing a political scandal. She also couldn't stake her claim to Dorian – humans seemed to have very specific conventions around that sort of thing, conventions Manon didn't meet as she wasn't engaged or married to him. As hard as she tried not be jealous, she had to admit she was, and as such she had to do something to stake her claim.

Manon threw her cloak to the floor and let the drying blue blood show before she stalked into the bedroom. The woman didn't appear to recognize it wasn't Dorian that entered her room. She let one naked breast slip out from underneath the small sheet that was covering her for some semblance of modesty.

"I'd heard you liked to take the form of a woman sometimes," the woman purred. "Did you want me to show you how wonderful it can be?"

The woman sat up, exposing her body to Manon. Manon stared. It wasn't anything Manon hadn't seen before, but it served to confuse and anger her more. Even if Dorian had expressed his disgust at her actions, Manon still found herself jealous. She debated her plan of action. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't kill the bitch, but she also wasn't familiar with more acceptable options.

"I should clean up," Manon said as she began to strip her leathers off. The girl obviously didn't know what the blue fluid was. Maybe she would leave when she smelled the filth of the alley she'd left the corpses in. Manon was beginning to find some fun in toying with the woman in Dorian's bed.

The woman licked her lips, savoring the sight of Manon's flesh. Or she did until she saw the grotesque scar on Manon's stomach.

"Dorian," the woman gasped. "Is that from the war? I had – I had no idea! Is that why you haven't been wanting to do anything with me? You're ashamed."

"That's far from the reason," Manon responded bluntly.

"You did sleep with Ellyn, is that because-"

"Because she's much more useful to," Manon replied. "Although she spends time in this room discussing political strategy, not getting into bed."

Manon walked over to the bathroom to turn on the water. The woman got out of bed to follow her and wrapped her arms around Manon's back. Manon flashed her iron teeth and got ready to shred the woman's arms, but a voice stopped her.

"Deanna," a deep voice spoke out. "It would be best to get your arms off of Manon if you don't want to get hurt."

Deanna's arms retreated and both woman and witch turned towards Dorian.

"I would assume your day was successful?" Dorian asked Manon.

"No," Manon replied. "I only got three today. They seem to be scattered around Rifthold."

"Well, you have as much time as you need," Dorian reminded her.

"So – if she's not you –" Deanna stated, suddenly a lot more afraid of what she'd done.

"I thought I'd told you not to return to my room after the last incident. And the one before that," Dorian said.

"I thought if Ellyn-"

"Ellyn was helping us with something," Dorian replied.

"Then is this woman your lover?" Deanna said.

"This is Manon, Queen of the Witches. She is here with my permission to hunt down a group of witches that is threatening Rifthold and Adarlan."

"Then why is she in your room?" Deanna practically shrieked.

"She's in my room because she needs to stay hidden," Dorian told her. "No one is to know she's here. No one. Is that clear?"

"W-"

"Because witches have enhanced hearing and smell. Any single leak of her name – from servant or noble – in the area and the opportunity to kill the dangerous witches may be gone. This is the area most secure from those individauls. If you can't understand that I won't hesitate to lock you up until the threat is taken care of," Dorian said. "Unless I haven't made myself clear, you're free to leave."

Deanna swallowed and picked up her clothes with as much dignity as she could. She turned away from Dorian and Manon as she dressed and left the bedroom.

Once the door was closed Dorian stripped of his own clothes and beat Manon to the bath. She tucked herself into the tub neatly in front of him.

"She's a pain in the ass," Dorian sighed. "I could kiss you for messing with her – if it didn't potentially get us both into trouble."

"I think she'll stay silent," Manon replied. "If she doesn't, she knows she's dead." She didn't wait for Dorian to reply or comment on her obvious jealousy – she simply kissed him.

* * *

The next incident came only four days later, when Deanna once again attempted to sneak into Dorian's room. Dorian was grateful that Manon had caught her in the hallway outside – while Manon was still drenched in the blood of some of the remaining witches. Although Deanna hadn't immediately recognized the blue substance dripping on the floor, she wasn't eager to question Manon when Manon explained what it was to her.

They were free for a week – a week with little time for each other, but a week. Then, on what Dorian had planned to be a date night, he came to his room sensing something was wrong. The door to his bedroom was ajar. Inside he could her slight creaking in the bed – not rhythmic, but rather the movements of someone rolling over. It being only 7 o'clock (but still dark), Manon wouldn't have been back, and if she was, she would be in the bath washing the grime off so they could go into the city together. He knew it wasn't Ellyn – she hadn't been one to sneak into his room, or to be in the palace in general (other than the library and meeting rooms). Deanna usually left the bedroom door completely open or closed. This was someone else.

Dorian felt for his magic in case it was someone dangerous, but something told him whoever it was wasn't out to hurt him. He walked into the bedroom and was surprised to find Rhea naked between his sheets. Given that she was exalted as a paragon on virtue by her mother, and that the girl herself judged the other women of the court for not being virgins on their wedding day, it was the opposite of what Dorian expected.

Upon seeing Dorian, Rhea's face turned bright red. She pulled the sheets up to her chin to hide her bare skin.

Dorian sat on the bed, trying to take a gentler approach to the situation than with Deanna. He didn't touch Rhea or even the sheets laying on top of her. Instead he got to his point in a blunt, but less adversarial tone than he had with Deanna.

"Did your mother ask you to do this?" Dorian asked the girl. He didn't look at her in an attempt to preserve her modesty.

"N- n-," Rhea stuttered.

"Don't lie to me, Rhea. You don't need to," Dorian replied. "I know you wouldn't do anything that wasn't proper." Normally he would have said it in a sarcastic tone, but he knew he wouldn't want sarcasm aimed at him when he was scared, and neither would Rhea. It would only make the situation worse. It was also true – Rhea was proper to a fault.

"Yes," Rhea replied.

"Do you know why?" Dorian knew Rhea was not dumb, and could make a good queen, but he didn't know how much she truly knew about the games the court played. It wouldn't change his decision about marrying her, but it would be a good thing to know.

"She said – she said it would increase my chances of winning – if I could – if I could secure an heir," Rhea replied. "Especially since Deanna and Ellyn might do so first."

"Deanna is at no risk of ever producing my heir," Dorian laughed. "Ellyn is at a small risk, but none at the moment."

"So-"

"So you have nothing to worry about as far as jumping into bed with me. It won't increase your chances of winning anything," Dorian said in a much more serious tone. "Although I know you don't like associating with commoners, Ellyn would be happy to explain the situation to you."

"S- so I'm okay? You won't – you won't…"

"No, I'm not going to bed you tonight, or likely any other night of your life," Dorian replied. "However, you may stay up here for a little while longer if you believe it will calm your mother down. I'll be going out into Rifthold tonight, so you'll have your privacy."

Rhea didn't respond.

"Would you like to get dressed?" Dorian asked. "It may be more comfortable."

Rhea nodded, but all Dorian could see she brought was a flimsy nightgown and a fine embroidered robe. With the nights getting colder she would need something substantial. Although she was as short as Manon, Rhea carried more weight on her. Dorian sifted through some of the clothes he had bought for Manon (or rather, himself disguised as Manon) and managed to find some oversized wool leggings. As he couldn't find a shirt, he took one of his old ones and handed it to her.

"I'll leave," he told her, turning for his bathroom with a set of clothes more suited to blending in in Rifthold.

He was surprised to find Manon asleep in his large bathtub, the water tinged with blue blood and brown hair dye. Her once-again white hair floated eerily on the water. For a second she seemed so still he paused to see if she was indeed breathing. Dorian briefly used his fire magic to heat the water, hoping she hadn't been asleep so long it had gone cold.

Manon's eyes slowly opened. Dorian had never seen her so relaxed – he had expected her to jump out of the bath and attack him. Dorian walked over to the tub and placed a feathery kiss to her lips. She blinked at him.

"Ready for our date?" He whispered.

"You aren't either," Manon replied, not denying it was a date.

"Fair enough," Dorian agreed as he replaced his court clothes with the plain ones he'd picked out. "You'll need to find clean clothes, given how today went."

"What do you mean?"

"How many witches are left?"

"Two – young. I think they may still submit to me," Manon answered. "I got the last of the ones I couldn't convert today, and I know where the last two are."

"Do you know where those last two are?" Dorian asked her.

"Yes," Manon replied. "They're working at a tavern near the docks."

"Would you like to go there on our date?"

"If you choose to," Manon said. "I'll be happy to." She stood up and got out of the bathtub. Dorian handed her a towel before leaving the bathroom. Rhea was now sitting shyly on the side of his bed, staring at the bookcase.

"Who's in there?" Rhea asked. "D- Deanna? Ellyn? It doesn't sound like them – is it some other commoner?"

Dorian smiled. "Someone I'm assisting."

"Someone you're dating?" Rhea asked. "I heard the word 'date.'"

"I wouldn't call it that," Manon said as she slinked out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy robe of Dorian's she had come to adore. "We're friends."

Dorian was a bit shocked by her choice of words, but didn't disagree with her assessment. "She and I fought together in the war," Dorian clarified for Rhea. "Where we became very close friends, and now we're working together on a project for the witch kingdom."

"Our date tonight is part of that," Manon replied. "Although should still be enjoyable all around."

Dorian handed her a plain dress and warm stockings to wear out in Rifthold. Manon didn't like dresses, but she had stained most of the pants and shirts she had worn with human waste in the sewers and witch blood. This was the last resort.

Dorian tried not to laugh as Manon stared at the dress, clearly displeased with her remaining option. "Do you need help?"

"That would be improper," Rhea corrected him, clearly ignoring the implications of him having seen her naked not minutes before. "I'll help. We'll meet you outside."

"Fine," Dorian replied, not wanting to fight the already frightened girl.

He waited in the foyer for what felt like an hour before Manon and Rhea emerged from his bedroom. Manon now wore the dress and her hair was styled in a way akin to the current fashion of Rifthold. Rhea had taken time to apply some light make-up onto the queen's face. A hooded cloak would help her blend in further.

"Thank you, Rhea," Dorian said. "We should go, Manon."

"Go to your kitchen boy," Manon told Rhea. "While you have time to yourself."

"Kitchen boy?" Dorian asked her.

"Despite what you've told me about her thoughts on class, it smells like she's been spending quite a bit of time lately in the kitchens, with a boy," Manon answered. "Perhaps that's why she seemed disturbed by the idea of sleeping with you?"

"W- we haven't – we haven't even kissed! That would be improper," Rhea replied.

"Do what you will," Manon replied, turning to Dorian. "Let's go."

* * *

The remaining two witches were not what Dorian had been expecting: one was heavily pregnant with a witchling and the other appeared to be an adolescent – not old enough to be working legally in his Rifthold. Perhaps this was why Manon hadn't bothered to kill them right after finding them – she had gotten softer.

The pregnant witch had been tough to convince, and for a moment Dorian thought Manon would kill her. After a battle of wills and snarling that cleared out the tavern Manon managed to convince her to consider the choice. Once the older witch had agreed to go back to the palace for consideration under watch, the younger one followed.

They didn't return to the palace until nearly midnight. While they had discussed sending the witches to a cell for the night, Dorian had managed to convince Manon that it may be wiser to put them in a guest room near Dorian's tower with guards outside every exit. Chaol would coordinate the effort and Yrene would provide sleeping potions in case of necessity.

Dorian and Manon tumbled into his bed around two in the morning. Rhea was long gone from his room. They didn't bother bathing or changing into pajamas. They simply shed their clothes and piled blankets onto the bed.

Both were awoken around ten in the morning to a sharp rapping at Dorian's door – not the bedroom door but the outer one. Manon was up with her claws out and Dorian was scambling to put on pants. The outer door opened then slammed shut and footsteps came closer. He cursed not locking it the night before.

"Dorian," a voice hissed outside his bedroom door. "Get dressed."

"It's Deanna," Manon whispered in his ear.

"And hide Manon," Deanna said. Manon looked at Dorian and then went to his bathroom. Dorian scrambled to put on casual morning clothes. As soon as he was decent, he opened the bedroom door and entered the foyer, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"What's happening?" He asked smoothly, confused but less panicked than he could have been. He had faced higher stakes – unless the two witches had attacked, which he doubted. And then Manon would have to kill them, a big deal, but nothing as big as the war had been. They had killed dozens of witches then.

"What's happening?" Deanna hissed. "Rhea's downstairs desperately trying to distract your mother. I don't think it will last longer."

"Why?" Dorian asked. Deanna hadn't answered his questions well enough.

"Rhea's mother was very upset to find out you didn't take up her offer last night, and your mother is equally upset – Rhea is her top choice, after all. She's also still worried about your lack of sex drive," Deanna said. "She thinks you're not right."

"Rhea told her mother?"

"Her mother followed up a kitchen servant who brought food up to you, only to find out you had left her alone to go out into the city for a night on the town," Deanna told him. "Though I would assume she doesn't know it was with Manon. Your mother wants to know why – especially now that a guest room is closed off and surrounded by guards. Rhea is the only thing preventing her from coming up here to confront you, and it won't be much longer before that fails."

"How much longer do I have?" Dorian asked.

"Maybe ten minutes," Deanna replied.

"Get Manon down to your room," Dorian told her. "And then take her to the city to shop. If not today, she'll need to look like a Queen my mother would approve of in the next few days."

Deanna looked him up and down. "The war really did change you, didn't it? Perhaps the witch is the best match for you after all, as Ellyn said."

"You talked to her?"

"She's a valuable resource as far as politics goes, so I figured she would know why you were keeping the witch queen to yourself," Deanna replied. "Especially as she was sneaking around your city killing witches."

"Then you should know why I need my mother to not hate her," Dorian told her. He went back to his room to get Manon, watched her follow Deanna out, and waited for his mother.

The former queen came into his room with little pomp and circumstance later than he'd anticipated – a good thirty minutes later. It had given him time to make himself presentable for her.

"Mother," Dorian said, greeting her coldly.

"Dorian," His mother replied. She placed a hand on his back as she had done when he was a boy and led him to one of the couches in his room. Dorian sat next to her.

Dorian looked at his mother's face, seeing a mix of anger and concern.

"Is there something wrong?" Georgina asked.

"No," Dorian replied. "If anything, things are more right than they have since the war. I would appreciate it if you would stop assuming my relative celibacy means something is wrong with me."

"Then why are you not jumping at the opportunity to have Rhea?"

"The fact that she happens to be your favorite candidate does not obligate me to sleep with her before any potential wedding – wouldn't that make our relationship less proper for a King and Queen?" Dorian countered.

Georgina stared at him, clearly not prepared for his rebuttal.

"I haven't had relations with any of the candidates with the exception of Deanna. And the last time I had Deanna was over two years prior, long before she was a candidate," Dorian continued. "However, as I'm sure you know, neither Deanna or Rhea is my favored candidate. Aelin is turning Terrasen into a partial democracy, and I would like to allow my citizens to vote on some things."

"Are you saying Deanna and Rhea aren't respected?"

"I'm saying Ellyn would be a much better candidate to assist in that initiative than either of them, as neither has any knowledge of or interest in political theory and public policy," Dorian answered.

"Then who were you with last night? It wasn't Ellyn. She wouldn't help you bring prisoners back to the palace. It's not the queen of Terrasen either. I seem to recall she is taller than average. The guardsmen say this woman was on the shorter side," Georgina replied.

"Only someone assisting me in arresting two witches that are in Rifthold illegally. They posed no threat, but I will be sending them back to the Witch Kingdom," Dorian answered. "The Queen of Witches will be here to pick them up very soon."

"The Queen of Witches? How soon?"

"A day or two at most."

"And you didn't prepare for her visit – no ball, no quarters set aside, no welcoming party – what are you thinking?" Georgina was clearly outraged.

"Manon isn't familiar with political niceties, and frankly is rather overwhelmed by them. The queen of Terrasen and I tried to explain them to her, but a war isn't the best time to do so. Therefore I figure it best that her arrival be less formal," Dorian replied. "And lest you forget, mother, Adarlan is still recovering from the war. We hardly have the funds for a grand welcome."

His mother was taken aback by his statement but nodded. "Fine. But I do insist you make sure she arrives to a comfortable situation. We don't need to insult a potential enemy."

"I assure you I will," Dorian told her. "I'll take an early dinner tonight and then see to things."

"Very well, then," Georgina said. "See that you do it."

* * *

After dinner Dorian went up to his room to find Manon had returned from her shopping trip. She laid on the couch reading and taking notes on a book about trade Ellyn had brought to her. A mix of solemn black, red, and gold outfits hung from a rack in his closet along with underthings to match. A single pair of black formal shoes sat beneath them. A set of cosmetics was on a small shelf above the dresses. He was disappointed that there wasn't more variety, but Manon wouldn't need variety.

After he'd changed into leathers own, Dorian shifted into a wyvern and took Manon to see Abraxos. He was staying in a forest close to Rifthold, but from tomorrow until Manon left again he could stay in the city. He and Manon would come to get Abraxos before dawn.

Back in the tower he laughed as Manon grabbed her favorite pajamas: some of his wool leggings and one of his warmest sweaters. He liked it both because of how sexy it looked on her and it reminded him of how much she liked his scent. After getting dressed she burrowed under his covers to keep out the cold. Only the top of her head, resting on his pillow, was visible. Dorian, not quite ready to sleep, watched until her breathing evened. Then, he pulled out the book she'd been reading earlier.

He heard footsteps in his sitting room, so he put the book down to go meet whoever it was. He could hear the shoes – fine shoes – on the stone floor, telling him it was a noblewoman, not a threat. There would be no rush to battle.

Behind him Manon had sat up to look at the door. "Another woman in your rooms, Princeling," she said, somewhat annoyed. Annoyed about being awoken or the woman in his room Dorian did not know.

"I'll deal with her," Dorian responded, reaching for the doorknob.

As he reached, the doorknob began to turn. Whoever it was in the sitting room wanted to come to his bed. Dorian sighed, figuring he'd have to kick Deanna out again. That also meant he didn't have to be as careful about hiding Manon.

Much to his surprise, it was not Deanna on the other side. It wasn't Rhea either, or Ellyn. No, it was his mother.

"Ah, mother," Dorian greeted her, trying to keep the crack of the door at a minimum. "I thought you would be in bed by now. It's nearly midnight."

"Now, now, Dorian. I'm just worried about you," Georgina replied. "Remember how when you were in distress as a child I would always come and hold your hand until you fell asleep?"

"Yes, I do," Dorian affirmed. "But I'm fine right now."

"Have a girl in there, do you? I should hope you decided to make last night up to Rhea and her mother," Georgina said. "And you won't let me in to protect her modesty."

In the silence after the former queen's statement, Manon snorted. Dorian looked back, knowing her snort made the situation all the more precarious for them.

"So if it's not Rhea, who is it? It can't be Deanna – I know you've been rejecting her repeatedly if her complaints are anything to go off of. And Ellyn, a girl you wouldn't even consider if not for the political aspect," Georgina said.

"If you'd like to meet me, then meet me," Manon purred from the bed.

Dorian released his hold on the door handle and his mother opened the door. He was somewhat frustrated that Manon had made herself known, but he knew he wasn't about to stop her if being known was what she wanted. It was clear Georgina had no idea who she was looking at, so Dorian hoped to soften the reveal of her identity.

"Is this her then? Your new lover?" Georgina asked her son.

"She's not my lover – she's my close friend," Dorian replied. "And a highly valuable ally." He moved to get back into bed next to Manon.

"A friend would not share your bed," his mother told him.

"We shared a tent plenty of times," Dorian told her. "During the war."

Georgina didn't know many of the details of the war, and frankly she hadn't bothered to learn them. The war was too fresh for her.

"Manon Crochan." Manon smirked. "Pleased to meet you."

Dorian sighed, it was too much to hope any of the women he fought with in the war wouldn't brag about their identity – and one that didn't know human customs or politics, well – that had been far too much to hope.

Georgina choked. "I thought she wouldn't be here until tomorrow."

"Not officially," Dorian told her. "But unofficially she's been here for weeks, solving our witch problem for us and beginning trade talks – exactly why Ellyn has been up here so often recently."

"And officially?"

"We'll start tomorrow," Dorian assured his mother. "Until then, we would like to sleep."

"Sleep or 'sleep?'" Georgina asked. She knew her son's reputation, and that reputation implied he'd want to sleep with anything gorgeous. Georgina couldn't deny Manon was the most beautiful female of any species she'd seen.

"Although she would like me to sire an heir for her, we won't start trying until negotiations are finished as long as the terms are correct," Dorian told his mother.

Georgina choked more. "Siring an heir for a witch? Are you planning to marry her?"

"No," Dorian replied. It was time for a different strategy. "A witch queen doesn't need a husband, so it would only mean the witchling would only be in the line of succession for the witch kingdom. Unless, that is, Manon agrees to marry me. She asked me once, you know."

Georgina went pale.

"Perhaps you should be getting to bed," Dorian replied. "You look like you need sleep."

Georgina nodded and walked out the door, not ready to process what she'd seen.

When the footsteps faded, Manon turned to Dorian. "Marry you?"

"Although I thought I wouldn't want to marry after – I'm sure you've heard about her death – but I would marry you, my friend, for the sake of our children and our countries," Dorian told her.

"You turned me down before," Manon reminded him. "You left me."

"I thought I would die. I thought I didn't care," Dorian stated. "But I do. I do care: about Adarlan, about Erilea, about myself, about my friends – about you."

If Manon could blush, she would have.

"And I knew you were only asking me for the sake of the witch kingdom, not because you actually, truly wanted to marry me," Dorian replied. "Now, if you truly want it either for your kingdom or yourself – or both – I'll marry you with no hesitation."

Manon scooted next to him and wrapped her arms around the young king. "Then let the trade talks begin." She kissed him flirtatiously and reached one hand down to rub a circle onto his butt. He instantly flipped her over and kissed her hungrily, just as Deanna promised he would.

* * *

Georgina frowned as she watched the witch queen "arrive" off the back of her wyvern. Manon looked much more intimidating in her leathers, blood red cloak, shining crown, and tight braid than she had in oversized clothes that had to be Dorian's. Her swaggering gait only contributed to the image.

Despite being shorter than the Queen of Terrasen by a good half a foot, the Queen of Witches scared Georgina more. This was the woman who would take her place. Not her favorite, Rhea, or the men of the council's favorite, Deanna. It wasn't even the commoner she had previously thought to be the worst possibility. No, this was the worst choice. And worst of all, as soon as Dorian took her by the hand and began to escort her inside, Georgina knew she was the best match for her son.

That knowledge was only reinforced over the next few days. Manon may not have commanded the respect of the court, but she certainly commanded their attention. Her negotiation tactics may have not been fit for court, but her swagger made up for it. The ladies of the court, who normally wouldn't have bothered to attend political activities, were enraptured. It seemed the rise of the Queen of Terrasen, Ansel of Briarcliff, and Manon herself had inspired women to get more interested in political power of their own.

By the end of the week a peace agreement had been signed and a trade agreement was well on its way to being ratified. Georgina sat around a table with Dorian's advisors as they discussed the final terms and conditions. Everything was fine until Manon brought up one particular concern that had been left out of all agreements.

"The witches would like the King of Adarlan to sire an heir to the witch kingdom," Manon stated with no shame. "If he is able to."

A few of the advisors sputtered. Georgina tried not to open her mouth and rebuke Manon – Dorian had already reminded Georgina many times that witches were extremely open about sexuality.

"If out of wedlock-"

"Then the child will only have a claim to the witches' throne, as they have no such qualms," Dorian replied. "I would have no problem siring an heir for the witches."

Now that made Georgina choke.

"And your marriage to one of your candidates?" An advisor asked, eyeing Ellyn.

"A peace treaty with a group that could easily wipe us out is more important at this time," Ellyn spat back.

Manon grinned wickedly in her general direction.

"Then it's settled," Dorian replied. "I'll attempt to give Manon an heir as part of these talks."

"And your heir? Your marriage?" An older advisor questioned the king.

"I'll marry him if it so pleases you," Manon replied. "But I believe the king has spoken: for now, no marriage. You can worry about an heir to your kingdom later."

Manon stood up and walked to Dorian's chair. "Shall we?"

Dorian grinned up at her and handed her a pen. "Sign this, witchling?"

Manon leaned down. "Of course, princeling."

* * *

Georgina hadn't expected Manon to get pregnant so early, but the couple had been locked together for a remote hunting lodge for over a week post-agreement. Dorian had been leaving to visit her every month, and eventually Manon came back to Rifthold to celebrate the anniversary of the agreement – with a three-month-old baby witch in tow.

"So, princeling, when are you going to marry me?" Manon asked Dorian at the anniversary banquet, their daughter comfortable in Dorian's arms.

"Marry you?" Dorian asked her.

"I have my heir, don't you need yours?" Manon asked him.

Dorian laughed. "So soon? Hollin can be heir for another few years."

"Do we need another treaty?"

"I suppose not," Dorian snorted. "We should plan then."

"Elope?" Manon asked him.

"Where'd you get that idea?"

"Yrene and the Queen of Terrasen," Manon replied. "Ellyn as well."

"If you want to," Dorian smiled. "Just don't tell my mother."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.


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